


Of golden mirrors and secret admirers

by SheyShocked



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Asphyxiation, Bisexual Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, Carl Manfred & Markus Parent-Child Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Parent Carl Manfred, Healing Magic, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mage Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Touch-Starved, Unrequited Love, Wingman Carl Manfred, or is it?!, past toxic relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29043762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheyShocked/pseuds/SheyShocked
Summary: After graduating from the Mage’s College, Simon becomes a resident mage of a small village called Far Waters, aiding those who need it with a word or a spell alike. It’s a decent job, and he comes to like it very much, but there’s something that makes it difficult. His feelings for Markus, son of a local rich artist.When Markus seeks him out one day, asking for advice on how to woo his love interest who barely even notices him, Simon has to set his love for the boy aside to help him win his special someone’s affection.
Relationships: Carl Manfred & Markus, Markus & North (Detroit: Become Human), Markus & Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Matters of heart

Most young and ambitious students of magical arts fresh out of college would take it as a personal offense to be sent as resident mages to a small backwater village such as Far Waters. But Simon would have it no other way.

He preferred the quiet solitude over the overwhelming bustle of the capital city. Besides, people of Far Waters were decent, honest folk, so different from the pretentious crowd he was used to back at home, and guarding sheep from an occasional thief or a pack of wolves and healing woodworking injuries proved to be much less stressful than dealing with pesky nobles. There was only one trouble that was making his work somewhat challenging.

The trouble by the name of Markus Manfred.

Markus was a son of an aging once well-known painter who decided to retreat with his small family from the capital city to Far Waters. Born in wealth and luxury, Simon at first expected him to be one of those spoiled rich-kids that always get what they want without any consequences. So he kept a close eye on him in case he would like to cause trouble. But to his great surprise, Markus turned out to be anything but a privileged brat.

He was very kind and sweet, always lending a helping hand around the village, and so eager to hear Simon’s stories about his college days. For someone so young, he had an incredible talent for leadership, knew perfectly how to rally up his neighbors for a good cause (be it rescuing a lamb that tumbled down into the river or helping a boy who got bit by a snake). And as chance would have it, he was also a drop-dead gorgeous man just a few years Simon’s junior who was getting both men and women swooning.

That last part was probably the biggest issue.

It started slowly without him even noticing, but soon enough, Simon became completely smitten by Markus’ charms. He wouldn’t hesitate to court him if he were just a little bit better match. But alas, no amount of money he could raise from his status of resident mage (which wasn’t that much, considering he refused additional payment from poor farmers who barely had any coin to spare, too) would be enough to afford him the luxury Markus was used to. Besides, it was no secret that he had far better suitors.

There were rumors in the streets that he had a thing for North, one of the Far Water’s fiercest hunters, and people expected them to get married in a year or two. So, there was no place for Simon in his life. Not at all.

Which was why it baffled him so much when he found the boy sitting at the front porch of his house one day, waiting for him to come home.

“Sir, please, you must help me!” Markus cried out as soon as he saw him returning from the mill where he was helping the miller’s wife deliver her fifth baby. He was on the verge of passing out with exhaustion, but the urgency in the boy’s tone instantly made him snap out of it and focus on whatever was troubling him.

“What’s wrong, Markus? Is it your father again?”

Carl Manfred was seriously ill since, well, ever since Simon remembered, but with each passing year, he required more and more medical attention. The mage even suggested to him once or twice that he should seek out help at the capital city where he would get far better treatment, but the stubborn old man refused to even think about it. He said that all he wanted was to die in peace at home. With Markus by his side.

“Oh, no, no, dad is fine, that new medicine you gave him last time seems to be working like a miracle. It’s just, well… I need to talk to you about something. In private. If you have time, of course.” Markus gave him a glance over and Simon thanked the divines that he had enough reason to scrub all the mess off of himself right at the mill’s well. The water was freezing, but at least he didn’t reek with filth now. That wouldn’t leave the best impression. “Don’t get me wrong, sir, but you look like you could use some rest.”

He had a point. But Simon always cared more about the others than himself. Especially if that someone one particular emerald-eyed son of a local painter. “It’s alright – I’m not that tired yet. Come in, then. Let’s see what I can do for you.”

***

Markus was unusually nervous, almost fidgeting with panicked energy. Even more so since Simon asked him to sit down by the dining table so they could talk it through (he even offered him some tea and his famous cookies as usual, but the young lad said no to both – weird, because he would usually jump after any opportunity to get some cookies). It was making Simon worry. What could be so important and yet so taboo it was this hard to talk about?

His head immediately started coming up with tons of catastrophic scenarios, and Markus’ initial silence wasn’t helping much.

Thankfully, the boy found his voice soon, even though it was hushed and uncertain.

“Sir, I… think I fell in love with someone.”

Ah. It was a tale old as the time itself, one that Simon heard in this very same room over and over again, from people both young and old, rich or poor. But not once from Markus’ lips. It made his heart sink with a cold, empty feeling, partly relieved that it didn’t turn out to be something far worse, but also full of remorse and self-pity.

He knew it would happen eventually. Just not like this. Not right now.

Still, he forced himself to smile. It was a terrible, empty grimace, and he hoped Markus wouldn’t notice. “That’s wonderful! There’s nothing quite like a young love blossoming for the first time.” Bloody hypocrite. “But I guess that’s not all there’s to it, am I right? You wouldn’t be asking for help otherwise.”

Markus sighed. “You are right. It’s much more… complicated. You see, I try very hard to impress them every day, but they still barely spare me a glance. I mean, they sometimes look, but I guess they don’t see me as a potential partner.” He looked up straight at Simon. “You probably have much more experience than I do, sir, so please, tell me – is there a way for me to win their affection somehow?”

_Wish I knew of one before,_ Simon smirked sadly but kept it to himself.

“Possibly. But I’m afraid my knowledge won’t be much of a use in matters of the heart.” He noticed Markus’s mournful expression and hurried to add: “Doesn’t mean I won’t try to help you the best I can. Now, tell me something about that person. Who are they?”

He didn’t need to know. In fact, it would be better for him not to know. But he couldn’t help himself – sleepiness always made him a little bit reckless. Bet he knew the answer anyway.

“Well…” The boy rubbed the back of his neck with a dreamy look in his eyes. Poor fool. He really was in too deep. “They are very nice. Always trying to aid those in need.”

So far, it didn’t sound much like North. At least not the North Simon met when he came to Far Waters. Since then, he has learned that she just requires time to warm up to a person before she shows them her more nurturing, protective nature.

“They are also really smart. Oh, and they have the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen, but rarely show it. I love making them laugh, just to get a glimpse of that smile.”

“I see,” Simon turned away from him, pretending he needed to check whether or not the fireplace has enough kindling, but it was only a rouse to make sure Markus won’t spot his saddened face. He should be happy for him, and yet, he couldn’t force himself to be. “You must really love that person.”

Markus groaned. “I do. By the divines, I do. But they won’t _notice_ me. What should I do to make them think of me, not as of a friend, but as a potential suitor?”

Simon thought for a second. Love couldn’t be forced, not even by all of the magic in the whole wide world. But it could be helped, so to speak. A small smile graced upon his thin lips. “I think I have just the thing for you.”

It was then that Markus suddenly hesitated, like he has realized something very important. “It’s not some sort of mind trickery, is it? I don’t want to force them to fall in love with me, just… make them consider me an option.”

“Be at ease, boy. No foul magic here. Just little something that should help you catch their attention. Whether or not they end up liking you is entirely up to fate. You are very noble for making sure, though.”

Markus puffed out his chest like some giant pigeon at the praise, probably just to playfully show off, but it still made Simon laugh, despite himself.

He got up, walked across the room to an old wooden dresser, and started rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for. A beautiful gilded hand-mirror. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly the fanciest item he owned.

He cleared it using his sleeve, and while doing so, he recalled every single one of Markus’ desirable traits, from his inner beauty to the outer, his endearing little quirks and moments of grace, and cast a simple spell, trapping that image inside the mirror, so every time he looked into it, the world would see him through Simon’s eyes. In a sense, he poured in all of his love for the boy and hid it behind a wall of a cloudy glass, which was now glittering softly.

_This is probably the closest I will ever get to telling him,_ Simon smiled, a little sadly, before turning around and showing his piece of work to Markus.

“Here, take this. It belonged to my mother. Bring it home and use it to groom yourself in the morning. No one will be able to keep their eyes off of you. Not even your blushing sweetheart-to-be, with a little brush of luck.”

Markus just stared at the mirror for a while, unwilling to take the offered gift. “Sir, wait, that’s… I can’t. I can’t take something so valuable from you.”

That made Simon blink at him owlishly like a complete moron. Most of his family never cared much for him, his twin brother Daniel being the only exception, so he didn’t think twice about giving away something that used to belong to them – but to Markus, family was everything. So he waved him off with a reassuring smile: “Ah, it’s alright. You can give it back to me on the day of your wedding.”

Markus suddenly lightened up, beaming at him like a ray of sunshine as he took hold of the mirror. “That’s a splendid idea! Yes, yes, I shall do that! Thank you so much, sir! You gave me back hope!”

Then he did something that caught Simon completely off guard – he wrapped his hands around him in a tight, nearly bruising hug.

This was the first time Markus has ever dared to cross the distance between them and touch the mage, always mindful of his social status (villagers were taught young to show respect towards their protectors – and that was all fine and dandy with Simon most of the time, but sometimes, it made him feel like he could forget that he was only a man too). It made his heart soar.

Such a strange feeling, to finally be able to hug the man that has been plaguing his dreams for a long time (he was slightly shorter than him, but only by an inch or so, and smelled of pinewood and dusty canvas – Simon was sure that he won’t be ever able to erase those small adorable details from his mind now, even if he tried), only to say goodbye and leave him for someone else. Tears gathered in the mage’s crystal blue eyes, but he forced them back. It’s gonna be alright. He will get over this. Eventually.

At least he hoped so.

He ended up the hug with an awkward pat on Markus’ shoulders (very solid and sturdy, if he may add) and a hollow chuckle: “Now now, that’s enough, boy. It’s time for you to go. It seems like I may need to take a nap after all.”

The boy immediately let him go almost like he got startled by his own insolence, color rising high to his already dark cheeks. Simon didn’t even know the boy could blush at all. It was so cute. “Ah, right! Sorry. Sleep well, sir. Hope to see you tomorrow at the market.”

“Me too, Markus. Me too.”

Simon ended up crying himself to sleep that day, feeling like a complete coward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After working on Soulmates AU, I thought it would be neat to start writing another multichapter AU fic, and Fantasy/Fairy tale AU was naturally my first choice since it’s my most beloved genre. I’m so excited I finally got to show you! You can look forward to the next chapter this Sunday.
> 
> Also thanks to everyone who left comments on my previous works, I’m so happy when I read them (they literally make my day), but because of my finals, it takes me ages to respond. But I see them all and appreciate them so much. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the first part of this mutual pining silliness!


	2. Art brings people together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon learns something new about Markus.

Markus was nowhere to be found at the market the very next day, and neither was North. She would usually have her own stall there, selling venison and all sorts of hides she wasn’t able to get rid of during the week. That day, however, her favorite selling spot stayed vacant.

Simon had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but still, he left himself the luxury of doubt. Maybe North has sold everything earlier than expected and was gone hunting. Perhaps Markus has already been here. Probably…

But even that flick of a hope was taken away from him when he met Bouchard, the merchant who was supplying Markus’ father with expensive paints and canvas from the capital city every once in a while.

“Excuse me, sir?” he stopped him right in his tracks. “Have you seen the young Mr. Manfred today? Guys told me he has been here about an hour ago, but left with that crude huntress of his without even visiting me, and I still have a package waiting for him…” He stopped himself almost mid-sentence, staring at Simon’s face. “Sir? Are you alright? You seem rather pale.”

To put it lightly. Simon could feel all of his blood rushing away from his cheeks, leaving only sickly ashen shade behind, like a sheet of paper smeared with something greasy. He had to shake his head to get rid of all the unsettling thoughts.

His spell has worked. He should be glad that Markus was happy. But he wasn’t. And he despised himself because of it.

He faked a smile once again. Just a few more and he will eventually get the hang of it. “It’s only a mild fever, nothing to worry about. This season and its chilly weather always keeps me up on my toes. But you know what? Give me that package. I wanted to visit the Manfred estate later this day anyway, so why not deliver it? It’s already paid for, right?”

“Aye. Wouldn’t trust anyone else, but since it’s you, sir… here you go.” Bouchard vanished for a few seconds underneath the stall, only to reemerge again with a surprisingly small packet. He handed it over to Simon like it was some sort of a treasure.

“Thank you, Bouchard. Take care.”

To tell the truth, he had no intention of going over to Markus’ father today. He already gave him his prescribed medication for these two weeks. But a short friendly visit certainly wouldn’t hurt, right? Besides, he could use a walk to clear out his head before delving straight back into the more serious part of the day.

After buying some essentials and quickly dropping them home, taking only the package from Bouchard with him, he headed to the Manfred estate.

He always used to like the old, dusty road leading to the large house by the river. It wound through several fields beneath a steep hill, and on top of which was an ancient oak. Not a single one of the old villagers remembered who planted the tree and when, only that it was there long before the first settlers. In any case, Simon felt a strange magical energy surrounding it whenever he came near. Perhaps it should be more concerning, but instead, it felt almost… soothing. Like resting in the arms of a beloved parent. Needless to say, Simon loved hanging out there every now and then.

This time, however, the place seemed to be occupied.

Voices were coming from the top of the hill, loud and clear, and Simon froze up when he realized one of them belonged to Markus.

“Could you _please_ try to squirm less? This isn’t easy, you know?” He sounded genuinely frustrated, maybe even a little bit upset with the other person. That was so unlike him Simon was brimming with curiosity.

He knew it was none of his business and that he should probably move along, but when he heard the sound of a girly giggle and a gentle smack, he simply had to know what the hell was happening there, against his better sense telling him to leave it be.

He slowly climbed up the hill, sneaking like a damn thief, only to get a sight of… the most peculiar scene.

The first thing he caught a glimpse of was Markus, sitting on the ground in the grass with his back turned toward him, tilting his head left and right every once in a while. Only then he noticed North crouching in front of him in a strange, stiff position that was putting her body on a display.

She had her long hair loose, flowing down on her slender shoulders, which was a major difference from her usual messy ponytail or a braid, and was sticking out her tongue at her friend, as if she was taunting him.

Simon still had no idea what was going on, but he certainly was intruding on something. His first instinct was to dart to hide. Unfortunately, he was no match for North’s eagle eye.

“Markus, we have a company,” she hissed at her companion who glanced up like she woke him from a pleasant dream. To Simon, he looked no different than usual. Maybe his eyes shone a little bit brighter, or his smile grew a tiny bit wider, but it was still the same old him. Lovable as always.

“Who?” he asked, glancing around, until he too noticed Simon, who wished the ground would swallow him whole. But to his surprise, Markus didn’t seem annoyed to see him. Quite the opposite. He hastily straightened himself up, knocking over a sketchbook and a pencil, which tumbled to the grass.

_Posing, North has been posing for him as a model,_ the mage has realized.

A blush was dusting Markus’ face as he waved at the mage. “Oh, hello, sir! We were just about to finish!”

“Finally! Thought I’d never see the day,” North grinned and slowly got up, stretching her arms and legs while doing so. “Anyway, I should get going. I still have to skin that boar from yesterday. Enjoy yourselves.”

She gave Markus a wink and a pat on the shoulder before wandering off back to the village, leaving her friend awkwardly sitting on the ground with an equally uncomfortable mage.

Simon, like the nice person he was (definitively not some creepy guy caught spying on the Far Water’s youngsters), picked up the sketchbook from the grass it fell to without even peeking to see the drawings in it, and handed it over to its owner. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you two. It’s just… I had no idea you are also an artist.”

Markus was truly adorable when he was blushing. His blush, dark and barely noticeable if one didn’t know what to look out for, didn’t stop at his cheeks, but instead continued to the tips of his ears, and even his shoulders… Simon longed to trace it with his fingertips but talked himself out of it. It’d be totally uncalled for, what would Markus think of him? So he kept his distance, careful not to even brush fingers as he gave him back his sketchbook.

“Well… they say it runs in the family. Carl, I mean, my dad taught me a lot. Says I have a real talent for art.” He paused, shyly glancing up at Simon, who was hovering over him with a package still in hand. “Wanna take a look, sir?”

Simon shrugged. He was dying to see the boy’s craft but was worried to come across as too forceful. Markus had now a girlfriend to worry about, he supposed. “Sure, I would be honored to.”

It was refreshing to see how eagerly the young man patted the ground next to him, motioning Simon to come join him in the grass. And he did, after some hesitating, but not too close to touch.

Markus showed him the drawing of North he has been working on right before he walked in on them, and well… it was simply marvelous. Everything, from the delicate line of North’s bottom lip to her thick auburn hair, looked almost like the original. There was something intriguing about the sketch that made Simon’s soul sing (much like the young man himself).

However, it wasn’t the only picture of North in the sketchbook. Far from it.

There were several more well-made portraits, perfectly capturing the huntress’ current mood, be it happiness or thoughtfulness, and also a few funny doodles and caricatures (some of them were crossed out or accompanied by angry notes, saying things like: “Set this page on fire, or else I will shoot you in the ass next time I see you!”) Childish bickering of two turtledoves.

“You draw North a lot,” he noted in a small, faltering voice, and Markus blushed even harder, confirming his suspicion.

“Yeah, she’s one of the few people willing to pose for me. It takes a lot of time and others get bored easily because I don’t talk much while drawing, but the sketches are better that way, and overall, it’s great for practice.”

“I see. Practice.” Simon didn’t quite believe him, but went along with it regardless, moving on to the next page.

He recognized the faces of several other villagers, including Markus’ father, Bouchard, and that poor orphaned boy Ralph, still living in the debris of his old house which got burned to the ground a few years back, but none of them were as accurate and detailed as the ones with North (Carl Manfred being the only exception). Still, Simon would be happy to draw half as pretty. The boy really had a knack for this.

However, as he was about to move on and turn the page again, Markus grabbed at his hand, making him stop. It was so out of the blue that it scared the hell out of Simon, and a few bright cyan colored sparks of magic came flying from the palm of his hand, startling the young man in return, but thankfully not hurting him.

They both flinched away from each other, frantically muttering apologies.

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to!” Markus yelped. “It’s just, the next sketch isn’t finished yet, perhaps the other ones would be more suitable…”

“No, no, I should apologize – I overreacted and lost grip of my magic. Won’t happen again.” It wasn’t until then he made sense of the lad’s words and frowned. Sure, he shouldn’t be nosy, but the uncertainty in Markus’ tone was troubling him.

“As for the picture… it’s fine, Markus,” he whispered and as if to make sure to get the point across, briefly squeezed Markus’ forearm in a short, friendly manner (but not before he made sure his magic was once again fully under the control). Amusingly enough, the boy almost instantly relaxed and gave him a bashful smile.

“You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to. Just please, don’t underestimate yourself like that. Your father is right, you know. You do have a blessing. And I would admire anything you have drawn, even if it was a little rough around the edges and incomplete. Never doubt that.”

When he stopped to think about what he said, it seemed like a step a little bit too far from the neighborly tone he wanted to set, and he scolded himself for it, but Markus didn’t look offended. More like pleased.

“Thank you, sir. You have no idea how much it means to me.” He stared at the sketchbook and pencil for a while. Then he seemed to make his mind and glanced up at Simon with a toothy grin. “Hm, come to think of it, how about we strike a deal – I show you the sketch and you show me some of your magic.”

When he noticed Simon’s slightly raised eyebrow, he lost some of his bravado and started explaining. “I’ve never seen you, or anyone, cast a spell before, other than healing and there’s too much stress associated with it, and the sparks looked nice, so… I suppose it’s only fair. What do you think, sir?”

Magic tended to be a sore spot for some snobbish mages back at the college. They refused to discuss it with “ignorants who can’t even possess it, let alone comprehend it”. Simon, on the other hand, always appreciated it when villagers asked questions, even though it sometimes made him feel like some rare specimen of a beast at a menagerie.

No full-grown adult has ever asked him to show them how his power _looked like_ , though (most people simply cared about what it could achieve, but seldomly admired the aesthetics). It was such an innocent and heartwarming request, he nodded without even thinking twice.

“Alright, you got me. Fair is fair. Now, should I go first?”

“Yes, go ahead, please!” It amused Simon how excited Markus could get over something simple like this, so much so it made him chuckle.

“Fine, here we go, then.” He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, feeling the gentle thrumming of pure energy underneath his skin as he did so. It was drawing closer to the surface with each heartbeat, making him almost dizzy. Magic required a lot of discipline on the mage’s end to not get out of control like a wildfire and start burning things, but thankfully, that was one of Simon’s (few) merits he mastered early in his studies.

Once he felt ready, he raised one hand palm up and let his power manifest in a small wisp of a bright blue glow that shone softly and moved with the wind just like a candlelight. A show of pure self-control and strength in equal measure.

After a while, when the light stabilized itself and there was no risk of it getting “extinguished” or spreading uncontrollably, he peeked to see Markus’ reaction.

He found him staring at the wisp, deeply in awe, but his silence was slowly downing upon the mage, making him feel self-conscious. Reminders of some… less appreciative viewers were starting to rear their ugly heads.

Thank divines Markus spoke up at last.

“Wow. It’s so…” Unnatural. Bizzare. _Scary_. “…beautiful. I’ve never seen such perfect cerulean shade.”

Artist through and through, Simon chuckled, feeling much more relaxed straight away. “Well, it’s not called the ‘magical _arts_ ’ for nothing.”

“Oh, so it does run in the family too?” Markus gave him a lopsided grin, which made his heart skip a beat. This damned angelic smile should never be bestowed upon a human being. Just seeing it was making his cheeks turn rosy pink, and given his pale complexion, it would soon become painfully obvious he was thinking about things he shouldn’t have.

“It does, but not by rule,” he murmured as he struggled to keep his wits together. “I was the first mage in my family since my great-grandfather. My parents and brother were… normal.”

In the blink of an eye, Markus’ grin vanished ( _phew_ ), only to be replaced by a way more serious expression as he sidled closer, almost like he wanted to comfort the other man. “Sounds quite lonely.”

It wasn’t that Simon didn’t appreciate Markus’ nearness. As a matter of fact, he liked it a bit too much. He longed to get closer, to open himself up to him. But he couldn’t, he wasn’t the one for Markus. That’s why he forced himself to create some distance, both physical and mental, between himself and the young lad who _was in love with someone else and had no idea what he was doing to him_. “It wasn’t so bad. There were others who had it much worse.”

If Markus has noticed the sudden coldness in his tone (and he definitively did, judging from the way he pouted while giving Simon space), he didn’t remark on it.

“But I believe it’s yours turn now,” the mage hurried to change the subject and to his big relief, Markus reached for his sketchbook with an uneasy laugh.

“Hoped you would forget about that,” he said, but obediently handed him the papers over. Simon gave him a smirk, as if to say: “Mages never forget, you know,” and turned the page. Once he did, his insides nearly froze to a solid ice.

There were a couple of attempts at sketches, but most got scrapped early in the process, showing only figures with blank faces and lots of notes around them, this time taken by Markus during drawing as he struggled to capture his idea. And on top of it all, in the right corner, was drawn Simon’s very own face all in a vivid blue color, with eyes gently closed and a smile on his lips.

It was simply the loveliest thing Simon has ever laid his eyes upon (even though it wasn’t very precise, clearly drawn from a memory like the others – the man in the picture was much more handsome, with prettier, less hawkish nose and slightly fuller lips).

Just knowing Markus deemed him worthy enough to draw, sent a warm, tingling feeling all through his body. He had to physically force himself to suppress it. He shouldn’t feel this way. After all, what would Markus’ significant other say?

“I know it’s no good,” Markus began rambling, “the lines are just off, and don’t get me started on the proportions! I didn’t do you justice. But… I could try again, if you’d be willing to pose for me?”

Simon’s heart almost stopped beating altogether. He knew it was just a friendly offer that meant nothing, still… he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.

“You’re selling yourself too short, Markus. It’s just as breathtaking as the others and I’m honored that you chose me as your subject.” The boy was beaming up at him, and Simon hated to spoil his joy with: “But I’m afraid I won’t have enough time to stand a model. Besides, there are plenty of other people you can ask who are way more interesting than I am. Perhaps John or Kara would be amenable.”

Markus’ face fell, resembling a kicked puppy. Why did it matter so much to him? Simon would never understand what was so special about his dull, plain face. “But I don’t want someone more interesting. I want you!”

Simon took a sharp intake of breath. He imagined these words being whispered to him thousands of times, but this wasn’t some secret confession, he corrected his stupid head. Markus meant it only as a model, right?

“You flatter me. It saddens me to say no, but I must.”

Markus sighed. “It’s fine. I understand.”

He could as well grab a knife and thrust it right into the mage’s guts. It would probably hurt just the same. If he wasn’t so sure it was better this way, he would have called it off and let the boy draw him for as long as he wanted. But as things were right now, he felt he overstayed his welcome and nearly leaped upon his feet, knocking over the package from Bouchard he was supposed to deliver and totally forgot about it.

“Thank you. I… should probably get going. Bouchard asked me to deliver this package to your father, so…”

Markus’ face lightened up for a few seconds. “Ah, great. That’s the new set of brushes and pigments we’ve needed. Thanks for fetching it, that was very thoughtful of you. I will take it, if you won’t mind.”

Simon didn’t, even though he had no problem of bringing it to the Manfred estate so the boy wouldn’t have to bother himself with it. After giving it some thought, he decided against it and did as Markus has said (like he had any choice in that matter, really), handing the package over before saying goodbye and hastily retreating home.

Well, this was truly a fiasco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I enjoyed writing this chapter way too much XD
> 
> At any rate, the next chapter will be posted on the next Sunday (it’s gonna be a Valentine’s day. I’m still thinking about writing something special for my boys, even though I don’t technically celebrate it - but it’s kinda Simon’s birthday and so on... Well, we shall see about that). Until then, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and see you next time!


	3. Fires burning bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the first failed attempt to woo his aloof beloved, Markus returns to ask Simon for advice, and the mage comes up with an idea – he should ask them out to dance at the Night of bright fires.

Against all Simon’s expectations, Markus still paid him a visit later that day. To tell him how well did his spell work and possibly to say thank you, he had assumed. However, when he noticed the lad’s none too happy expression, he had to reconsider.

“I don’t think it worked, sir,” he sighed, collapsing into the armchair Simon has offered him to take a seat in. “It seemed promising at first, but then they just fled and haven’t talked to me since. I have no idea what did I do wrong. Please, could you help me out again?”

Now Simon couldn’t stop himself from feeling guilty. It was, all things considered, his fault North ran away after he interrupted their session. He really wanted to set it right but had no idea how. Love was tricky. He should know something about it.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But feelings can’t be rushed, you know. It takes a lot of patience and sometimes bears no fruit, no matter how hard you try.” Great, now Markus looked even more miserable than when he came in, so he softened his tone. “I just don’t want you to get disappointed if this doesn’t work out.”

“I know. But perhaps there is still something I can do to make it better?”

The mage has pondered about it for longer than he probably should, eyes fixed on the calming light of the flames dancing in the fireplace while doing so. Nothing seemed reasonable, though. Until…

“There’s gonna be a feast, right? This Sunday or so?” he inquired out of the blue and received a confused nod in return. Excellent.

“Yeah, the Night of bright fires.” Markus averted his gaze, looking down to the ground in an almost coy manner. “I’ve been thinking about asking them to dance with me there, but I’m afraid of their reaction.”

What a pointless fear. Simon has seen him dance before numerous times, the boy seemed to enjoy it quite a lot and never looked more angelic. He hardly ever got to sit down and rest for a while with how many people demanded their turn at dancing with him. Only a fool would refuse him.

“I think you worry too much for nothing. Anyone would call themselves lucky for getting a chance to be your dancing partner, mark my words.”

“And how about you, sir?” Simon froze up at that sentence, his stupid heart instantly filling with a treacherous pang of hope he tried so hard to get himself rid of. Could it be… Was he…

No. Of course not.

Markus immediately corrected himself with cheeks burning a dark dark shade of red (Simon would never get tired of that sight, even though it was caused by distress – the mage always kinda assumed that the boy fancied both women and men, based on some things he mentioned in the past, but it seemed like he might get it all wrong).

“I mean, would you be happy if someone came to you and asked to dance? Just like that?”

Simon reminded himself of the opulent balls he was forced to attend as a young student. How much he hated it, being alone in a noisy crowd without a chance to get out of sight even for a few minutes. Just the memory of it was giving him the creeps. He didn’t want to let Markus down, though. Divines knew he could use some encouragement.

“Well, probably not if it was just ‘someone’. But with the right person… I’m sure it would please me, to receive such attention.”

“And who would happen to be the right person? Just curious.”

_Certain green-eyed aspiring artist who is only two or three years younger than me and still too nosy for his own good._

“Oh, aren’t you a snoopy one today.” He snorted a laugh to make it clear he wasn’t mad at him, merely unwilling to discuss the matter further. “Don’t trouble yourself with what I look for in a man –” he paused, biting himself in the lip as if to stop the treacherous words from coming out of his mouth, but the damage was already done; there was no going back, “– rather worry about how you are gonna ask your special someone to dance.”

Markus observed him with a great interest, although there was no judgment in his warm stare. More like… wishful desire? Agh, was he projecting himself upon the lad again? He seriously had to stop.

“I will give you something that should make it a tad easier like before, but don’t forget, you still have to do all the hard work!”

With that, he went to the neatly made bed standing in the corner of the room, searching underneath it for a small wooden box where his best shoes were lying, unused and nearly forgotten for what felt like an eternity. He should have known he won’t find much of a use for fancy boots in a village where social gatherings aren’t such a big deal as they used to be back home. But at least now he had a new purpose for them.

He brought them to light and blew away all the dust that has gathered on them (they were fine otherwise – he cleaned and moisturized them regularly, so they were as good as new). And as before, he cast a simple spell on them.

This time, he recalled Markus’ elegance in his every feline-like move, the confidence he sported while leading others. That’s what he captured and sealed in the leather, so the boy would mesmerize the crowd, just like he mesmerized the mage himself.

“Try these on. We are about the same height, hopefully we also have similar shoe size.” Markus didn’t look eager to wear someone else’s shoes (and well, not that Simon would blame him), so he reassured him: “Ah, don’t worry, I’ve never really worn them – they were just here collecting dust.”

Markus gave him an unsure look, but did as he was told, putting the shoes on – and smiled once he slipped right into them. “They fit perfectly!”

“Great. Wear them at the feast and I guarantee you – your beloved will fight for the opportunity to dance with you.”

The boy wiggled his toes in the shoes for a few seconds, testing the waters, before he looked up at Simon. “I… don’t know how to properly thank you, sir. I will never be able to repay you for everything you have done.”

Simon gently squeezed his shoulder, just to comfort him, nothing more. And if he lingered for longer than would be wise, well… he was still only a human, no matter how the villagers treated him.

“You will best repay me by being happy, Markus. That’s all I want. You can return the mirror once you get married if you decide to do so, but I don’t want to make you feel like you are indebted to me somehow.”

Markus gave him a confident, yet gentle smile that always used to make Simon melt. “I _will_ return it. You can count on it. At any rate, thanks again, for… being such a wonderful friend.”

Friend. Hearing that word hurt to the core, even though it was true. They were friends. And they would stay friends, regardless of Simon’s feelings he had no control over.

This time, Simon wasn’t really sure who initiated the hug, but it hardly mattered. They fell into each other’s arms and the mage buried his head in the crook of Markus’ neck with a sigh, inhaling deeply his scent. Pinewood, dusty canvas, and oily paints. Having it so close and yet so far away almost made him weep.

_At least let me have this, for the last time, please,_ he begged his own cruel mind, which was already reminding him that this wouldn’t last. He needed to let the boy go for good, so he could move on and find his own happiness.

But until then, he had him wrapped tightly in his arms like he was meant to stay.

***

Not long after Markus has left with an apology that he needed to check up on Carl, North came knocking on Simon’s door. Well, banging on it would be much more accurate.

“Was Markus here?” she demanded to know as soon as the door swung open, catching Simon off guard.

“Yes, he was. Why do you ask?”

“And? What did he say?” she completely ignored his question. Typical North. Mages, elders, or even the village’s mayor himself, she bowed to no one. Ever. Simon usually admired that about her, but now it just turned out plain rude.

“I’m sorry, North, but that’s hardly your business. He came to me seeking advice and I gave him one. That’s all you need to know.”

She stared at him like he grew a second head. “Oh, so he didn’t… Nevermind. Stupid oaf and his pride.”

It was Simon’s turn to give her a baffled glare. “Frankly, I have no idea what you are talking about. But you know what? Maybe next time you should just go and ask him. I’m sure he would be happy to talk to you.”

Why did he suddenly sound so bitter? No way he could be jealous of her. After all, he had nothing to be jealous of ( _you are lying through your teeth,_ a small voice inside his head whispered, but he was quick to silence it).

North seemed to sense his inner turmoil and hastily excused herself, leaving him even more puzzled and none the wiser. Honestly, it was becoming a theme lately.

***

The days have swiftly gone by, and before Simon knew it, it was the time he used to dread the most – the Night of bright fires, one of the largest (and also the wildest) feasts of the year.

Officially a grand celebration of the upcoming summer, for Simon it just meant one extra tedious day spent treating burned skin and watching people drink mead until they pass out, dance around the flames, or bumping into couples that are busy making out. Boring, when one didn’t participate in most of these activities.

Not that he wasn’t welcome amongst his neighbors. Rather the opposite. It was his duty, after all, to light up the first bonfire with his magic, and he always had a place of honor at one of the dining tables, the villagers encouraging him to try and mingle like every other human being. He just… never seemed to know how to fit in, no matter what. So he spent most of the time sitting around, with a stiff smile on his face and occasionally having a word or two with anyone who stopped by.

When the darkness finally fell upon the village, they ignited the flames and the music started playing. Some of the more courageous men and women (aided by gallons of booze) took it as their cue to begin dancing and singing along. Simon, for the most part, just stood by. Sure, some came asking him to dance (out of courtesy, he was certain), but he gently turned them down one by one. Like every year before.

It was hard to keep track of one single person in a crowd full of writhing bodies illuminated only by fire, but after a while, he caught a glance of Markus. The boy looked absolutely stunning, the dim light flattering his complexion, flushed with both excitement and alcohol, and Simon almost had half a mind to just get up and ask _him_ to dance. Luckily, he regained his senses before he could make a complete fool out of himself.

As expected, Markus had no reason to complain about having few dance partners. At some point, he left the girl he was dancing with, a petite young woman with strikingly blond hair, only to come to the nearest dining table and ask to dance North, who was at the time stuffing her face with a chicken breast. Sure, the timing was awful, but she still gave him a nod and let him lead her to the dance floor.

Splendid! It worked this time.

However, Simon felt a pang of… something uncomfortable bubbling deep inside his chest whenever he looked at them having a great time at the dance floor (he refused to admit it might be jealousy), so he averted his gaze and went back to eating his share of bland turnip stew.

He forbade himself from even glancing up in that direction again until the musicians finish playing this song, and was almost hellbent on keeping his word. He kept his eyes fixed on the wooden bowl in his hands as if they were glued to it. Luckily for him, that musical number turned out to be one of those quick ones.

But his “luck” was just as short-lived. Once the music stopped and he looked up to see if Markus and North were still at the dance floor (they were, of course), the musicians chose another song to play. This one was much slower, more sensual. Perfect fit for couples.

_This is your chance, Markus,_ a bitter thought has crossed Simon’s mind, but he suddenly found himself unable to look away even though he desperately wanted to. Almost as if he was under some evil spell.

He held his breath as the green-eyed artist hesitated, before leaning down toward North and whispering in her ear. Alright, that was more than enough. Simon seemed to finally break the curse that prevented him from turning his eyes away and was about to leave the celebration for good when something unexpected happened.

North gingerly shook her head, giving a barely-even-there nod in the general direction of the table Simon was sitting at. Oh boy. Did she catch him staring? He quickly turned away from them, but it was too late. The damage was already done. The huntress has left Markus right at the dance floor without even kissing him goodbye, just a rough pat on his back.

Simon felt a plethora of emotions all at once.

The most prominent was guilt. Why must he ruin everything he touches? But there was also a pity for Markus. Confusion why he wasn’t looking all that sad, considering his… significant other just walked away from him for the second time (that woman had to be immune to Simon’s magic, there was no other explanation). And somewhere deep inside the labyrinths of his mind, there was a spike of something that felt distinctly like relief. He forced that emotion out of the way, though – his job was to help the poor lad, not to make his life even more miserable.

He watched with a sorry expression on his face as Markus headed over to the table where the village girls were serving drinks and ordered himself a tankard of ale. He downed it in almost one go, wiping off the foam mustache with the back of his sleeve.

_I’m so sorry I failed you again,_ Simon apologized to him silently and lowered his gaze like a dog who has just received beatings. As he should.

Just before he was ready to call it a night again and make his way home, he heard a gentle, if a little bit slurred voice right in front of him.

“Hello, sir… nice music, don’t you think?”

It was Markus, just standing there with one hand nonchalantly leaning against the table. Simon stared at him in utter disbelief for more than a few seconds. Why was he here chatting with him like nothing had happened? Wasn’t he even a tiny bit upset with him?

“…Of course. Very nice,” he muttered, still not quite sure how to wrap his head around this.

Markus chuckled, the alcohol clearly doing its job. “Right. So, I was thinking –” he did a small bow, less elegant than it would be were he sober, but still classy enough, offering Simon, who was petrified by surprise, his outstretched hand – “may I have this dance?”

The mage just stared at him for a solid minute. He didn’t know what to do. By the divines, he had no idea what to think either! But then it clicked at last. Markus saw him sitting there all alone, and since he just got rejected, wanted to forget about it by doing a good deed.

There was only one major problem here.

“I mean, I would be happy to, just –” Simon tried to explain himself, stuttering like a damn student all over again. However, the mead has already dulled Markus’ rational thinking so much he didn’t pick up on that slight hesitancy from his part, so he took it as a yes, and before the mage knew it, they were already halfway to the dance floor.

“Markus, wait! Listen!” the mage blurted out as soon as he recovered from the shock, escaping Markus’ grip (which was firm but surprisingly gentle, as if he was waiting for Simon to also reject him, just like North did… thinking about it this way made the mage feel sad for him). That seemed to get his attention at long last. He stopped all at once, almost making Simon bump into him, giving him a confused look in return.

“There’s something I need to tell you first. I’ve…” Oh no, why were his cheeks heating up so much all of the sudden? There was no way Markus wouldn’t notice that radiant pink blush ( _If he asks, just blame it on the alcohol. Doesn’t matter that it’s not true,_ his inner voice gave him helpful advice, making him cringe).

“I’ve never really learned how to dance. I never saw the appeal.”

“Oh!” Markus blinked as it slowly dawned upon him. Then, a sheepish grin settled on his face. “It’s alright, sir. I can teach you. Just follow my lead.”

He gently, ever so gently, took Simon’s hands in his and placed them on his shoulders. Well, upper chest, to be exact. Hard to tell if that was what he was aiming for or if his vision was a little blurry, but he seemed pleased either way. “Hands here. And – here.”

His own hands, big and warm, even through the thick fabric of Simon’s festive tunic, ended up resting on the mage’s hips. A shiver ran along Simon’s spine. It felt… good, way too good, to be able to touch someone and be touched like this after such a long time. And although he was telling himself that there was nothing romantic about the gesture, just like those two hugs they had shared before, some stupid part of his lizard brain couldn’t get over Markus’ closeness, how their bodies fit together… it was nearly maddening.

Markus sensed him tensing underneath his fingertips, and, evidently learning from his previous mistake, took it as a sign of disapproval, so he moved the offending palms away and asked: “Is that alright with you, sir?”

“O-of course! Go ahead.” Simon gave him a small nod of reassurance, hoping it would escape his attention how putty he became in his arms.

Markus smiled at him and once he was certain he didn’t mind, put his hands back on his narrow hip bone. “Ano now we just… sway to the rhythm. Like this.”

They gently moved back and forth across the dance floor, and it seemed almost soothing. Simon could feel Markus’ heart beating underneath one of his palms. It galloped way too fast for such slow music. Well, he supposed his own was too, although for a much different reason.

All of the sudden, Markus chuckled. It was a low, husky sound from the depth of his chest, one that roused Simon up from his slightly sluggish state he was put in by the warmth of the flames all around them and the lad’s calming presence.

“You are blushing, sir,” he remarked with an impish twinkle in his gorgeous eyes, and that was, embarrassingly enough, all it took for Simon to turn into an even more ruddy, stammering mess. Dammit, he knew this was going to happen! It wasn’t much of a help that their faces were a mere inches apart. This way, all the mage was capable of thinking was how much he yearned to capture those plush-looking lips, which were tempting him ever since this has all began, with his own…

_Now’s not the time, Simon, focus!_

He took a deep breath to get rid of all the inappropriate thoughts before giving Markus a small gentle slap on his chest. “And I think you are forgetting yourself, boy.”

What he didn’t expect was Markus giving him a genuinely upset pout. “Please, stop calling me that. ’m not a kid anymore.”

That much was true. To be honest, he probably grew out of his childhood shoes long before Simon even got to the village. It was just the mage’s way of distancing himself from other people (his dear friend and classmate Josh once said that he acted like he was born old – guess he wasn’t far from the truth). Especially from devilishly handsome young men who were beyond what he could have.

“Only if you stop calling me ‘sir’,” he quipped back without thinking and regretted it almost as soon as the words left his mouth. Oh well. No way of taking it back now, was there? “No, seriously. My name’s Simon. One could easily forget with the way no one uses it anymore.”

Markus’ grip on his hips suddenly grew stronger as he pressed their bodies flush together, even closer than before. Closer than would be appropriate. Or safe. “Oh, I could do that. _Simon_.”

Hearing his name slip from the boy’s – no, _young man’s_ – lips in such a sinful manner turned out to be too much for the mage. Luckily enough, the song was just ending, so as soon as the last tune ended, he pushed Markus away with a pathetic apology: “Thanks for the dance. You made my day a little brighter. But I need to go now.”

And then he ran home like the scaredy-cat he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta admit, when I first started writing this chapter, I didn’t think twice about the festival Simon and Markus were supposed to attend. It was meant to be as generic as one can get. But then I remembered how we used to celebrate Beltane with our family, its beautiful customs, and couldn’t resist. After some more research on this topic (there are so few sources and so many "versions" of this holiday, it’s quite fascinating), and then used some of the themes for this fic. Hope I didn’t butcher it much.
> 
> Anyway, as always, thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, if you did, let me know by giving kudos or comment, and see you next Sunday!


	4. Sacrifice of life for one of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the second attempt to charm the young artist’s sweetheart has ended up in vain. Out of desperation, Simon gives Markus one last enchanted item to help him and sends him home. Unfortunately, he comes back later that day, terrified and begging for help.
> 
> His father got very sick all of the sudden and his life is hanging by a thread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have the barest minimum knowledge of first aid, and I did _some_ research beforehand, but I’m no expert paramedic, so please keep that in mind while reading this (I doubt anyone would take fanfiction as a how-to, but better be safe than sorry).  
> Also, if you are uncomfortable with scenes involving near-death experiences (no one actually dies), asphyxia, and performing CPR, you should skip the second part of this chapter (divided by asterisks). It’s quite brief and non-explicit, but I think it’s still worth mentioning. This chapter is more angsty (and longer) than usual, but don’t worry, it’s gonna get better. Take care.
> 
> P.S.: Title of this chapter was inspired by quote from Quest for Glory IV, a game I used to love as a child.

Markus returned the next morning nursing a massive hangover, and Simon, who still felt horrible about what happened the day before, went to prepare him a strong herbal tea and a wet rag to help him with the headache. The young man took the cold piece of cloth and pressed it to his forehead without much of a fuss.

“So… how did the feast go?” the mage asked after a while of painful silence like a complete fool – he knew his spell most likely came to naught, just had no idea what else to say.

It amazed him how Markus still tried to be polite, even though the pain was making him grit his teeth. Or maybe it was anger. Who knows?

“It wasn’t half bad, I think. I had fun, and initially, they looked like they were enjoying the night too. But then they left me again.” He sighed. “It’s strange. They always seem so agreeable at first, like they are genuinely interested in me, and the very next moment when I finally decide to make a move, they take every opportunity to push me away.” He cradled his head in his hands, setting the wet rag aside. It hurt Simon’s heart to see him so… broken. “Simon, be sincere – am I so hideous or undesirable as a husband that they think I’m only good enough for them to toy with me?”

_Clank!_

The teacup Simon was holding slipped from his hand and got smashed into pieces on the floor, spilling the precious liquid all over the carpet. But the mage hardly even cared. He quickly grabbed another rag with an annoyed huff of breath, drying away the stain (sadly, magic couldn’t fix everything, and even if it could, it would leave him drained of all energy, possibly badly injured, if he tried to use it all the time for petty tasks), then set it aside to kneel in front of Markus, gently holding his hands to comfort him.

“Oh, no, no. Of course not! Markus, you’re one of the best men I’ve ever had the honor of meeting! Perhaps it’s not you. Maybe they are just scared.”

“Of what?” the young man let out a wretched sob escape his lips. “Of me becoming their spouse?”

“No. There are many things to be afraid of. Rejection, for example. Or that _they_ aren’t good enough for _you_.”

Markus gave him a look full of disbelief and a sudden surge of hope, so much so it made the mage glance away in embarrassment, knowing he got way more personal than he should have. This was about North or someone else entirely. Not about him and his stupid, doomed infatuation. He should know his place.

“Or perhaps they aren’t ready for such a commitment just yet. We can never know for sure. Have you tried being honest with them? Telling them exactly how you feel?”

A pause. Then, Markus shook his head. “Not directly, no. I wanted to, but every time I told myself I would do it, I ended up chickening out. It’s just… so difficult! Never imagined it could be harder than leading half of the village to stop bandits.”

Now that was a sentiment Simon could relate to.

“Ah, I see. Well then, maybe you just need to find the courage. Luckily, I can help with that.”

Simon chuckled and got up from the floor, pulling his hands away from the other man’s grasp (he seemed almost reluctant to let him go – what a sweet innocent gesture) as he looked around the room to locate something suitable for this kind of an enchantment. But alas, the only thing he could find was his old warm coat.

It was one of the finest pieces of his wardrobe, with buttons carved from deer antlers and the fabric dyed in the prettiest shade of blue. Needless to say, it was also fairly expensive. Simon’s gonna miss it, that’s for sure – but that was a price he was willing to pay for the young artist’s happiness. After all, he can save money to buy himself another one the next season.

He grabbed the coat from where it was hanging on the clothes rack and gently smoothed out its folds to make it look more presentable. And like before, he let magic seep through his fingertips, weaving into the fabric his memories of Markus’ bravery and determination. Just a small boost to make him a little more confident to talk about his feelings.

The spell soaked into the piece of clothing with easiness, and soon, Simon handed the coat to Markus, making him try it on first, just to be sure. Of course, it fit him like a glove, maybe a little tighter around the shoulders and waist (the mage tried not to dwell too much on how it flattered the curve of his already _fine_ enough backside), but otherwise, it was perfect.

“Here, take this coat. Wearing it should bring you boldness and luck, that’s exactly what you need. Once you feel ready, go confess to your love interest. I… can’t guarantee they will share the sentiment, but either way, it’s better to know than to let it eat your heart out like this.” The words were failing him by the end of his speech, but luckily Markus understood what he had to say, even though he didn’t like it.

“I suppose you are right,” he sighed wearily. This whole unfortunate situation was taking its toll on him, and Simon felt almost unreasonably furious at his aloof beloved for making him suffer so much. Thank the divines he didn’t know who they were for certain. He would have a very stern conversation with them, that’s for sure. “Still hope they are gonna reciprocate my feelings.”

“You and I both, Markus. But remember, always wish for the best and prepare for the worst.” _Nicely done, Simon. There goes his optimism,_ the mage’s inner critic came nagging him with sarcasm and he had to silence it by giving Markus an encouraging little pat on the back to lift his spirits. He didn’t expect him to turn it into a full-body embrace, although he should be used to it by now. Markus was simply touchy-feely, he noted with a small goofy smile as he nuzzled into the junction of his neck. “There, there. Just… try not to stress over it too much. It’s gonna be fine, no matter how it turns out. And now, off you go. I still have plenty of work to attend to.”

“Right. Thanks again, Simon,” Markus let go of him and the mage despised how cold and lonely it instantly made him feel. “I will make sure to stop by tomorrow. To bring you some coin for the coat.”

“You don’t have to –”

“Oh, I know. But I want to,” that holy terror dared to give him a _wink_. He was lucky enough to be halfway to the door already, else Simon would smack him for being such an irritating tempter and completely oblivious to it. How could anyone with so much charm have such a problem talking to their sweetheart was truly beyond him.

At any rate, Simon wasn’t going to argue with him. Not now, at least. Once he comes back with the money, he will find a way to make him forget about it – but at the moment, all he did was smile and wave him off. Soon, the door closed behind Markus and the mage was once again left alone with his thoughts. Strange, how the absence of the cheerful artist instantly made his home look so… empty and quiet.

_Ah, shut it, you,_ he scolded himself, shaking his head with a sigh. _People of Far Waters need you to be strong, not moping around like some lovesick puppy. Get back to work!_

And so he did. Markus was way too good for him anyway, even if he wasn’t so madly in love with someone else.

***

Since then, he hasn’t seen Markus for the entire day. But to put it frankly, he barely had any time to think about it. He wasn’t lying when he said he had way too many duties to see to. Be it a badly infected splinter wound or a quarrelsome married couple that needed to have some sense talked into them, Simon always acted like a shoulder for his neighbors to lean on.

However, by the end of the day, his body was left aching from using his magical power more than would be wise, and all he wanted to do was collapse into his bed and let someone hold him (preferably someone with kind green eyes and sheepish smile who smells like pinewood and dusty canvas…) until he passed out from the exhaustion.

Sadly, once he returned home, there was no one waiting for him. No firm, yet gentle arms to coax him into sleep. All he had was the empty bed and covers to burrow in. At least they didn’t feel nearly as scratchy as usual when he was this tired.

…But even that little was taken from him shortly after he fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, when the room was still pitch dark, someone came banging at his door, stealing away his precious sleep.

“Simon! Simon, for the love of divines, please, open the door!”

The mage sat up on the bed all at once with a grunt, his mind foggy from lack of a proper rest as he reached out to find a candle on the nightstand. Even in this confusing, almost limbo state he was still in, he recognized Markus’ voice. It had to be him. No one else in the entire village would find the courage to use his name, even if they knew it. But what could he need at this unholy hour?

With the candle lit to help him not to trip over something, he went to open the door. He was met with a horrifying sight – Markus, who looked almost like a ghost, a terrified look on his face and skin so pale compared to his usual warm brown tone. He was dressed only in his nightwear (well, the poor mage was no better, but to his defense, he just got up and had no time to get dressed).

“Markus? What’s the matter?” Simon yawned, still half asleep and barely catching on to what was happening around him, but slowly growing more and more alert with concern.

“My dad, he… woke up wheezing, gasping for breath. I tried to give him his medicine and even performed that trick you taught me to help him catch his breath, but nothing would work. I, I’m afraid he’s gonna die if you won’t come help.”

He was on the verge of tears when he stopped talking, and Simon was suddenly fully awake, murmuring some juicy curse underneath his breath, something he would never do in a polite company, were he not so sleep deprived and in such a dire situation. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his stash of herbs and other medical supplies was still stocked enough for cases like this, and once he knew for sure it was, turned back toward the young man who was fighting tears.

“Alright, keep calm and give me five – no, three minutes. I’m gonna grab my gear and meet you at home. Try to keep him conscious for as long as you can, do you hear me?” Markus gave him a shaky nod. Seeing how scared he was for Carl’s life, Simon felt he needed to comfort him before he completely breaks down – so he lifted his head with gentle hands at his cheeks, forcing eye contact. “Look, everything’s gonna be fine. I promise.”

A tiny part of his mind knew it was a terrible idea to give him word on such a thing. Carl Manfred was very old, after all. If it was his time to go, there was nothing Simon could do about it, mage or no. But looking in those tearful eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth. Besides, Markus wasn’t stupid – he knew the chances anyway.

The painter’s son gave him a watery smile. “Thank you. Now please, hurry!”

Before he could react, Markus turned around on his heel and ran back toward his father’s mansion. Simon didn’t just dally either. He quickly grabbed a pair of old shoes and some long overcoat along with a few things he could come in handy and followed behind Markus, not caring in the slightest that he was still clad only in his unmentionables underneath the overcoat.

Thank goodness he had already been to the aging painter’s home more times than he could count (and that was a lot) – this way, he had no trouble storming into the house and heading straight to Carl’s bedroom. In a situation like this, every fraction of a second counted.

Carl Manfred didn’t look well at all, despite his son’s best efforts at reviving him. His skin, already thin and blotchy with old age like a sheet of paper, was turning sickly pale, almost blue in some places. He also wasn’t wheezing anymore. He was barely breathing at all.

Markus, with tears running down his face, tried to pass gulps of air from his lungs directly between their mouths, just like the mage taught him, but without much of a success.

Simon gently pushed him out of the way and checked Carl’s airways, to make sure nothing got stuck there, preventing him from drawing breath in properly (Markus would have probably noticed, but better be safe than sorry). He didn’t find anything, of course. The old man’s lungs just seemed to be giving up their long fight, and with them gone, heart would be soon following as well. There was very little Simon could do about it. No mortal could battle death – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to try.

He started very carefully massaging Carl’s heart by gently but firmly pressing on his chest, always mindful of the painter’s frail physique, then switching back to the mouth-to-mouth breathing like Markus did before. However, no matter how hard he tried, Carl’s life kept slipping through his fingers like sand.

_It’s too late. I can’t save him, he’s gonna die,_ Simon realized with dread settling deep in his bones. He wasn’t always able to save everybody – he knew that. But it still felt like a personal failure whenever it happened. And the worst part was having to tell the family. Family…

He glanced over at Markus, aware that this might be the old man’s end and not wanting to traumatize the lad by making him stand around and watch his beloved father slowly suffocate.

“Markus! Go to your room, now!”

He didn’t expect the young man to oppose him. No one has ever dared to. So what was his surprise when heartbroken Markus refused to go away with a decisive shake of his head. “No. I won’t leave him. I can’t.”

Now that wasn’t a word of the timid boy who came to him, confessing to falling in love with someone who didn’t appreciate his feelings or was completely oblivious to them. This was an act of a strong man capable of making tough choices. Simon glanced at delirious Carl, then back at his stubborn, wonderful son. His gaze grew softer.

“Markus. He won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“But I will,” the lad whispered, and if Simon wasn’t in love with him before, he sure was now. He sounded so certain, firm in his decision to be there in his father’s last moments. However, the mage knew how it can scar a person for life, to witness someone, especially a loved one, perish in such a painful way, and had half a mind to just usher him away. He didn’t deserve this. But then again, it was what the old man would have wanted.

Decisions, decisions.

After giving it some thought, he finally made his mind. With a sense of defeat, he beckoned Markus to come closer. There was still a tiny sliver of hope, although it required him to play a little risky. And to do so, he needed Markus’ assistance.

“Help me unlace his shirt. I’m gonna try something, but it would be much easier with nothing in the way.”

The lad gave him a confused stare at first, but seeing that he was allowed to stay, he didn’t protest any longer and obediently did what was asked of him. Once they got rid of Carl’s flimsy nightshirt drenched with cold sweat, Simon laid his hands down on the old man’s breasts. He closed his eyes and focused on the painter’s weak uneven pattern of breathing, as well as his own.

His magical power, still feeling sore like strained muscle after a whole day without respite, stirred deep inside him. It hurt. It hurt so bad to try to wake it so soon, but there was no other way. Carl’s organs required healing, or he was about to die. Simple as that.

Soon enough, Simon’s palms lit up with a faint cerulean light, way too weak to his liking, that poured straight through the old man’s skin and into his lungs and heart, restoring them to their former state. The pain it elicited was almost driving Simon crazy, yet, he continued pushing through, using the last bits of his strength to save the painter. He forced himself not to pay attention to the loud thrumming in his ears, nor the wild gallop of his own heart. Healing magic was always kind of a bargain with the devil, but this time, Simon was certain he was gonna make him pay.

At last, Carl startled awake, drawing in a long and deep breath. _Thank the stars,_ Simon thought as he stopped the healing process and drew his hands back, feeling strangely wobbly, like a plate full of jelly during an earthquake.

As soon as he stood back, Markus threw himself to the bed, catching poor confused Carl in his arms so tightly like he wanted to never let go.

“Dad? Dad! Oh my goodness, you are alive! I thought… I thought…” he burst into tears.

“It’s alright, baby boy,” Carl managed to croak out as he squeezed his son tighter, even though he had no idea what was happening around him. “It’s alright. I’m here.”

Markus wiped away the tears and looked up at Simon, probably to thank him. But when he did, the smile he sported up until then disappeared from his lips. “S-Simon?! You are bleeding.”

His voice sounded like a distant echo to the mage. What was he talking about? He felt fine. Well, something was trickling down from his nose to his upper lip, but otherwise, it could be much worse. He raised his hand to wipe it off, and when he put it down again, his fingers were all bloody. Huh. Weird. He didn’t feel a…

Before he could finish the thought, his vision became blurry, making him nearly sick in the stomach. The last thing he remembered was how his legs gave under him and he came tumbling down to the ground like a sack of potatoes, followed by Markus’ terrified yell. Then, complete darkness.

***

Simon woke up somewhere cozy and warm, wrapped in some silky soft fabric, like a cocoon. Or a burial shrowd. What happened? All of his memories were fuzzy and barely making any sense. The last thing he remembered was how Markus came to him in the dead of night, begging for help. Something went wrong with his father. Simon had no other choice but to heal him with his magic. After that… oh.

Did he die during the process? Was this heaven? Bah, nonsense. Who ever heard that heaven had such large bookcases along the walls? And painting easel by the window? Or his coat, the one he gave away just yesterday, hanging over one of the chairs? No, this wasn’t some utopia up in the sky, and he wasn’t covered in shrowd, but in blankets. He was laying in what he supposed to be Markus’ bed.

Only then he noticed the owner of the bed himself. The poor man was sleeping sitting down on the ground with most of his upper body splayed on the bed, one hand outstretched toward his, as if he was holding his hand until he fell asleep too. Simon’s heart skipped a beat.

_Oh, don’t fool yourself,_ he cooled himself down. _He didn’t mean to hold your hand. And if he did, so what? He nearly lost his father today. Come to think about it, did Carl even make it, or…?_

Simon looked again at peacefully sleeping Markus. He felt awful for disturbing his rest after a stressful night like this, but he simply had to know if all of this was worth it in the end.

“Markus. Shh, Markus. Wake up,” he gently shook his shoulder, but with little to no effect. The young man just turned around and continued dreaming. Well, too bad. Simon apologized to him in his mind, before using just a tiny bit more force. And as luck would have it, it seemed to do the trick.

With a drawn-out groan, Markus drowsily opened his eyes. He looked cute when he just woke up (Simon immediately mentally slapped himself for having such improper thoughts), so baffled and sleepy as he looked around his own room like he saw it for the very first time. But then he finally fully regained consciousness and looked at Simon with a mixture of wonder and relief in his gaze.

“Simon? This isn’t a dream now, is it? You really are awake.”

The mage gave him a stiff smile, mostly just to try and cheer him up. He could use it. It didn’t work as he intended, though. Markus stayed just as serious as before, if not more. “Of course I am. Did you think I wouldn’t wake up?”

Markus’ hands suddenly balled into fists, face contorted as if he was fighting not to break down. “Don’t do that ever again.”

Simon frowned, having no clue what brought this on in the first place. Was it using his magic to heal Carl? That was necessary, the old man would pass away otherwise, Markus surely knew that. The mage’s sole purpose was to protect his people (that’s what he was telling himself anyway – deep down he knew that the main reason why he decided to risk so much was because he couldn’t see Markus broken with grief, mourning his beloved parent), and if he had to try his luck because of it from time to time, then so be it.

However, the young artist completely stole the breath away from his lungs when he said with a voice full of blazing fire: “Don’t try to play it off as a joke – I almost lost two people I care about the most in one single day. Never make light of my feelings like this, I’m begging you.”

Ah. Simon involuntarily flinched as if he got punched in the stomach, righteously feeling like a total fool for not realizing how emotionally draining this whole ordeal had to be for the young man. But then his sick mind fixated on the “people who I care about the most” part (because of course it would) and he became unable to say something, hell, even move a muscle!

By all means, he knew there were many kinds of affection, familial, platonic, and many, many more, but despite that, the only one his subconscious kept reminding him of in Markus’ case, was romantic. So cruel, to dangle what he so desperately wanted and couldn’t have, right in front of him like a carrot on a stick to a donkey.

He couldn’t come up with the right reply for the longest time, Markus was beginning to notice. In a desperate attempt to hide that something was troubling him, he forced his tongue to cooperate, blurting out a pathetic little: “Right. Sorry.”

Smooth, Simon, smooth.

It earned him a short, defeated look before Markus lowered his forehead on the bedsheets he clutched in his fists just a few moments prior. He looked so… tired and miserable. A truly wretched sight, which awakened Simon’s usual compassionate self. He reached out and gently squeezed one of the young artist’s hands without even thinking twice about it, providing the solace as his duty (and heart) dictated. Judging from how he immediately squeezed back, it was appreciated.

“No need to apologize. Just –” Markus heaved a sigh. “Try to remember some of us love you dearly and would be distraught if you were gone.”

They stayed silent after that, Simon absentmindedly rubbing small, soothing circles into the bronze skin of Markus’ wrist with his thumb as he still tried (and failed) to process the other man’s words. In his defense, his head hurt like hell and he felt drained of all of his strength, so it was in his eyes excusable.

Then he suddenly remembered something crucial he forgot because of his emotional outburst.

“What about your father? Is he alright?”

Markus finally raised his head, giving him a tender smile. The dim light of the room gave his face almost feline-like features. So beautiful.

“Yeah. Carl’s stubborn old fella, it takes a lot to bring him down. After you healed him and I carried you here, he suggested I should fetch him bacon for tomorrow's breakfast. Bacon! So soon after he recovered, can you imagine? It’s truly a miracle.” He grew serious once again. “But without your magic, he definitively wouldn’t make it. I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“ _It’s nothing_ ,” Simon meant to say at first, but bit his tongue before it could leave his lips. No belittling of the other man’s feelings ever again. “Glad I could be of service. And that he’s doing so good after all of this.”

They fell into long, pregnant silence once again. Markus’ warm eyes flickered briefly between his mage companion and the planes of bedcovers dividing them before they finally settled somewhere near Simon’s face. He didn’t seem to work up the nerve to look at him directly, but kept glancing at him as if to make sure he wasn’t being too forward or something. Simon never understood how this man can so abruptly change from a shining beacon of confidence to this sensitive, gentle, and almost bashful in some ways lad.

“Could you… stay the night? To keep an eye on Carl. I don’t think I can be alone right now.”

Simon knew it was probably unwise for him to accept. One more step from the already thin line he forced himself to set. But! It was true that Carl required medical supervision. And he didn’t feel like walking all the way home yet. Perhaps a few more hours wouldn’t hurt.

“Of course. But only until the sunrise. And I’m gonna take…” He looked around to find anything he could take a nap on, but other than the chair by the writing-table, he came up with nothing, “ the chair, I think.”

“You can keep the bed. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Simon frowned. Was he suggesting he should be some sort of the rudest guest who forces the son of the house owner to nestle on the floor like a dog? No way. “Don’t be silly. It’s your room, you should keep the bed. I insist.”

The other man hesitated for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he pondered about other options. Simon noticed a sofa back in the vestibule, but it was old and way too short for an adult man to sleep on. Besides, they would have to lit a fire in the fireplace, and there was no way the hall could get warm until the next morning. And if there was a single thing Simon despised, it was being cold. But what other choices did they have?

“Well, we could always, you know… share. The bed is big enough for both of us. Maybe even for three, if we weren’t worried about huddling close to each other.”

To his shame, Simon thought about it for way longer than he should. The image of the two of them, laying in each other’s embrace… awakened something deep inside him he didn’t wish to explore. Sure, friends could share a bed if they both agreed to do so. But without any contact. And no improper thoughts.

Simon took a deep breath. He can do this. He has no other option.

“…Alright then. But try not to kick me in your sleep, would you?”

The other man stifled a laugh (there was that smile Simon adored so much, carefree and joyful), as he climbed up on the bed, almost tripping over the edge with how quickly he sprung up. It made Simon chuckle as well. So eager. Always so eager.

He lifted the blanket for Markus to slip under, and once he settled down on his side of the bed, far enough not to make it awkward, Simon smiled at him. “Good night, Markus. Sleep tight.”

“And don’t let the bedbugs bite,” the young man replied, most likely just to tease him, making Simon turn his back towards him with an exasperated groan, subtly telling him to stop joking around and get some shut-eye before the dawn comes. He was so tense after everything that had happened going back to sleep seemed almost impossible.

At least Markus didn’t seem to have the same problem – his breath evened out shortly after, letting the mage know he was sound asleep once again. Good. He deserved some rest.

Once he was sure his bed companion was sleeping like a log, Simon started turning around in an attempt to find the most comfortable position for him to count the sheep. However, no matter how much he twisted and turned on the bed, sleep still seemed to be evading him. Damn it.

When he found himself on his back for the thirteenth time that hour, he finally gave up, staring with bloodshot eyes at the ceiling and counting the tiny cracks he found in it. He debated glancing over at Markus, just to make sure everything is fine, of course, but opted not to in the end. It was already bad enough that he was sharing the bed with the man he was yearning for, he didn’t have to add watching him sleep to the pile.

He was at the count of twenty-six when Markus began tossing around like crazy, mumbling some incoherent words under his breath. He was definitively having some wild nightmare. Poor guy. He has gone through so much stress.

When his squirming got even worse, accompanied by small whining noises and face twisted with fear, Simon knew he simply had to intervene. He loudly clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, hoping it would wake the young artist up. Turns out it wasn’t nearly as effective as he thought it would be.

He looked around the room helplessly, as if the four walls would give him an answer what should he do. The last thing he wanted was to wake the man up by violently shaking his shoulder, however, he would do so if it was necessary. Then he noticed his enchanted coat hanging on the chair, and got an idea.

He left the bed for a second and came back with the fancy piece of clothing, inching closer so he could drape it over Markus’ shoulders, the enchantment weaved into its fibers hopefully stopping the bad dream. Sure, it would get too hot after a while, to have both the blanket and the coat on, but he could always take it off the man once the nightmare has been purged from his sleep.

He rested the coat on top of constantly tossing and turning Markus, securing it in place by running his hands over it, almost a caress, if he had the cheek to admit it. It seemed to do the trick, though. Once the coat was in place, Markus stopped struggling as much, even sighing as his body finally relaxed.

_There you go,_ Simon thought with a gentle smile on his face as he was about to take his hands away – but to his surprise, as soon as he did so, Markus let out a whimper, arms blindly reaching out and grabbing him, pulling him chest to chest and holding him like some sort of giant stuffed toy, while he was still sound asleep.

At that moment, Simon would bet he was going to die from all the blood rushing to his face. Great. Now he got himself stuck underneath his coat with the man he was pining after. Just his luck.

_Alright, alright, don’t freak out. If you wake him up now, you’ll only make it twice as embarrassing. Better stay still and wait for him to let go without any intervention._

Sure, it wasn’t the most brilliant plan he has ever had, but what else was he supposed to do? So he willed his body to relax despite the odd circumstances, going as limp as possible in Markus’ iron grip, terrified to move even a muscle as to not wake him up.

At least his nightmare seemed to subside with the coat and the comfort of another body pressed against him. He still squirmed from time to time, but all it took was for Simon to coo at him softly, and once he got comfortable enough (the enchantment which was supposed to bring the wearer boldness most likely being to blame), hands running up and down the back of his head. Markus didn’t have hair long enough for him to ruffle, but the gentle tickling of the short fuzz was rather pleasant. And what was more important – it got the job done. Markus smiled in his sleep, nuzzling up to him, the nightmare finally gone. Good.

Simon grinned from ear to ear despite himself. It was nothing new that Markus loved to touch and to be touched – but who would have guessed he was such a huge cuddlebug he required snuggling even while unconscious? Well, it’s alright. As long as Simon manages to untangle himself and leave before he wakes up, he’s happy to indulge him.

He stifled a yawn. Cuddling with the man of his dreams, aided by the comforting warmness and weight of the coat, seemed to be doing wonders to his tension, leaving his muscles all loose and tired. Taking a short nap before the sun rises surely won’t hurt…

***

He had to drift off at some point because the next thing he remembered was the soft tickle of sunshine on his face. To his horror, the sun seemed to have risen a long time ago, and what was even worse, Markus wasn’t sleeping anymore.

He had his head rested on the mage’s left peck, almost like he was listening to his heartbeat (which halted and then sped up its rhythm once he figured out what has he got himself into) as he absentmindedly played with the lacing of his shirt. When he felt him stir up from his sleep, he looked up and gave him a lazy grin, eyes shining like stars as he did so, a wild contrast with the cold dread that was slowly seeping into Simon’s bones.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Markus murmured, even his voice full of warmth and sweetness, like honey. Shame it did nothing to stop Simon’s already raging panic attack. It maybe made it even worse.

He muttered a quick reply and then asked, out of the blue: “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long. A few minutes or so. I didn’t mean to wake you, you looked like you could use a few more hours of sleep,” Markus frowned. “Is… everything alright, Simon? You went pale all of the sudden.”

“Pale” was an understatement. Simon must have looked like a living corpse, all blood leaving his usually rosy cheeks in favor of his panicked, racing heart. He wasn’t thinking straight anymore. All he knew was that he needed to get out as fast as he can.

“I… I’m sorry. I have to go, right now,” he not so gently shoved Markus down from his chest and got up from the bed, unintendedly making the coat they were laying under fall to the ground like a dirty rag. There was a flash of hurt across the young artist’s face, and Simon hated himself for being the cause of it, but it was better this way. Unfortunately, Markus didn’t understand that. He grabbed him by the wrist, refusing to let go.

“Simon, wait! Did I do something wrong? If so, I apologize! I won’t do it ever again, I… will stop touching you from now on if you say so, just please, don’t leave!” he begged, his eyes filling with tears, and each word he said was like a salt to Simon’s wounds. But he had to be the reasonable one here. Markus had so much potential, a whole life ahead of him. He didn’t need to squander it by bringing magic, bringing _Simon_ , into his family.

“You did nothing wrong, Markus. I did. Please, forgive me, I never wanted it to come to this either, but… it’s all for the best. Let me go, have a great life, marry someone who’s gonna be good to you. And try to forget I ever existed,” he pried his hand away from Markus’ grasp, much gentler this time, and stormed out of the room, trying to ignore the other man’s cries on his way.

He didn’t look back once. For Markus’ sake, as well as his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Markus: “Simon, I love and care about you!”  
> Simon: “You mean as a friend, right?” (⊙_⊙;)  
> They are just so clueless, I love it. :-D
> 
> Also sorry for the angst, I didn’t expect it to turn out this way (seems like I can’t write a fic without it containing some hurt/comfort), but the bigger the pain, the bigger the reward, I guess. Thanks for reading as always, kudos are appreciated, you can even come screaming at me in the comments if you wanna. I live for the interaction with you guys.


	5. Can’t be forgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Carl have a heart-to-heart conversation, which leads to one awkward confession.

Simon did what was usual for him when facing a personal crisis – he ran. The catch was that this time, he had nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. The entire village was so small it was impossible not to walk into Markus ever again. Things were bound to get embarrassing, and possibly messy.

What was he supposed to do? Tell the poor mayor he had to find some other mage, someone with less emotional baggage, so he could move out of the Far Waters, like a scoundrel who seduced a local priest’s daughter and was looking for an easy way out? Just because he was dumb as a doorknob and let his foolish heart get him carried away _again_? (He quickly and without mercy suppressed the memory of another boy, one with scraped knees and cheeks flushed with alcohol, a dare and vicious lies being whispered into his ears: “ _I love you, Simon, sweetheart, it’s alright, I won’t tell anyone…_ ”) Not gonna happen.

He’ll find a way to convince Markus to forgive him when the time does come. But first thing first.

There were already people, lots of them in fact, lined up waiting by the doorway of his hut when he first arrived. Some seemed more impatient than the most, so much so they almost torn the door out of its hinges with the intensity of their relentless knocking.

“Hello? Sir, are you in there?” Simon overheard some of their conversation as he was slowly approaching from behind.

“I hope nothing happened to him. He is not one to oversleep,” argued Chloe, the sweet golden-haired flower girl, and Simon’s entire being got filled with a tingling, fuzzy feeling he couldn’t put his finger on.

“ _Remember some of us love you dearly and would be distraught if you were gone…_ ” Could Markus be right after all? Hmph. What a strange thought, that he could be truly appreciated (maybe even loved) by someone. After all those years of being merely tolerated and misunderstood, first by his very own family and then by those meanies back at the college…

Oh no, not again. Better not to dwell in the past, else he will recall those emerald eyes filling up with tears as he walked away, and that was the last thing he needed at the moment.

“Uh, I’m here. Right behind you,” he decently cleared his throat to catch his neighbors’ attention, making them all startle like a bunch of wild hares being caught up in the light of a lantern. Only then he did realize how ridiculous must he look, with a messy bedhead and half-naked, so to speak, and his face went all beet red.

“Sir? What happened? Where have you been?” More and more questions came swarming from all directions, and all Simon wanted to do was to hide behind the door, get dressed, and possibly die with embarrassment.

“Mr. Manfred got very sick during the night, so I had to stay with him and his family to make sure he gets everything he needs,” he tried to explain himself as best as he could, clumsily stringing words together like a thief caught red-handed.

Chloe gasped and others followed. Carl used to be the life of the village, so to speak, even after his nasty accident and withdrawal from the public eye. People were fiercely proud of that eccentric old painter choosing their community as his own. Even those who knew nothing about art. “Oh no! Is Mr. Manfred alright?”

“He is now. I should come over again later to check up on him, but other than that, he’s ought to be fine.” Oh, he definitively wasn’t looking forward to that visit. “Now, let me get inside so I can put on some clothes and then tell me what do you need. Please, not all at once! Get back in line and I will hear what you have to say in a few minutes or so.”

***

He wasn’t trying to avoid visiting the Manfred estate, in the true sense of the word. He was just… terribly busy. That’s what he kept telling himself anyway. But when the sun began the second part of its journey across the endless sky and the last of his guests left the comfort of his house, it was about time to stop burying head in the sand and attend to his other duty.

The opulent house of the Manfred family was dark and quiet, almost as if it was sleeping. (Perhaps the reason why he used this particular metaphor was much more prosaic – it could be because of all the stuffed animals just standing around every other corner of the property. Simon could never get used to their empty stares surveying the hallway shrowded in shadows like silent guardians. Seriously, what the old artist saw in having a bunch of dead animals inside his house was a mystery to the mage.)

Simon did his best not to glance over at the giant stuffed bear which was keeping an eye on the staircase as he went past it, heading upstairs to where the master of the house and his son had their bedrooms.

The door to Markus’ room was tightly shut. Strange. Was he away from home? He wouldn’t do that to Carl after what happened, now, would he? Nah, he probably just wanted some privacy. And perhaps it was for the best. Simon ignored the surge of guilt and longing that overtook him as he walked by the sealed entrance, going straight to the old painter’s bedroom. He gently knocked once, twice, and when he heard an affirmative noise from the other side, he entered.

Carl looked so much better now. There was even some color to his ashy pale cheeks. Thank goodness. When Simon came in, he was just looking at the wheelchair standing in the corner of the bedroom, as if he was contemplating asking Markus to take him for a walk. Carl was a longtime friend of an odd man from the capital city, someone named Mr. Kamski, who was supposed to be a graduate of the mage college, just like Simon, but instead of magic, he believed in the power of something he called science. Simon may have different opinions about the world and life in general, but even he couldn’t question all the amazing things Mr. Kamsi came up with. Like this specially constructed wheelchair for Carl. If this “science” could make someone’s life so much better, who was he to judge?

“Look who the wind blew in. I thought you weren’t coming back, to be honest,” Carl noted as his guilty as charged guest and occasional caretaker walked across the room and sat by his bed. Hard to believe now it almost happened to be his deathbed.

“And leave a patient unattended? Heaven forbid.”

“Right,” Carl gave him a peculiar, sidelong glance, one that Simon didn’t quite catch because he got so caught up in his work as he proceeded with checking the painter’s pulse as he would usually do, that the world around him stopped existing.

Carl’s vitals seemed surprisingly strong and steady this time, considering he was no spring chicken anymore. Wonderful. It was giving Simon hope he would get better and drive Markus crazy with his tiny little bad habits for a few years longer. Markus…

“Now listen up, kid,” Carl has managed to cut off his downward spiral of thinking right at the start, thank the stars, by gently grabbing his hand, making him focus once again. He grinned despite himself. Everyone was always so careful and proper around him, calling him sir, or, in Markus’ case, by his name. Oh, but not Carl. He “didn’t give a rat’s ass” about being proper (one of the few advantages of old age, as he used to joke) and called him a child just like every other young person. Simon didn’t mind that much. “There’s something I need to tell you and I’m not getting any younger as we speak, so… try to pay attention, alright?”

“Of course, Carl. What’s on your mind?”

He sighed. “Look, I’ll be forever in your debt for what you’ve done. For saving my life and then living to tell the story. I would feel godawful if you decided to sacrifice your young, perspective life just to save some old fart clutching to his brushes. And I don’t know what happened between you and my son…”

Simon opened his mouth to protest that nothing had happened (liar, liar, liar), but Carl quickly silenced him.

“I’m not upset or anything. It’s none of my business anyway – you are both somewhat reasonable adults. All I’m asking you as a concerned parent to go talk with him, sort it out. I know my boy can get quite intense at times, after all, I raised him to be this way, but he has a heart of gold and doesn’t deserve to suffer like this. He barely left his room since you had your quarrel, and I don’t have to be a genius to see that whatever happened between you two is eating him alive.”

By the divines, no… Simon averted his gaze, feeling shame boiling deep inside the pit of his stomach and quickly spreading through his entire body like a wildfire. He never meant to hurt Markus so much, he just… well, all he wanted was to protect the bright and marvelous young man who could do so much better from himself and his unrequited mess of feelings. Guess he did an awful job either way.

“It’s not that simple, Carl. I…” Simon gulped down saliva, eyes fluttering closed as he slowly counted to ten to get a grip of his racing heart. He might as well come clean to the old man. Perhaps he will make it easier for him by banishing him for good. So before he could talk himself out of it, he blurted out: “I have feelings for Markus. Shameful ones I have no control of, despite knowing he desires someone else. There, now you know everything.”

He was expecting a bout of furious yelling. Perhaps a sharp slap of a frail hand across his face. What he didn’t expect was a perplexed hum and then, once he peeked with one eye out of curiosity, Carl’s thin salt and pepper eyebrow raised with something that looked like confusion. What’s wrong? Did he not understand what Simon had just confessed to?

“Wait a second. What do you mean, ‘desires someone else’?”

Now it was Simon’s turn to blink at him like a freshly awakened owl. _That’s_ the part he decided to dwell on?!

“I… yes. He didn’t tell you? I was supposed to help him make a good impression on his special someone. I failed, as you can guess.”

Carl’s hands rested down on the thick blanket as his face became occupied with a completely blank look. For a few seconds, it looked like he might get angry after all. But then he, to Simon’s utter puzzlement, started grinning like a madman. “Well, I think we’re in for some hilarious moments, that’s for sure. Divines, I won’t let you live this down for _months_ if all goes well.”

“Beg your pardon?”

The aging painter waved him off with his characteristic mischievous smile. Always a bad sign. “Nothing, nothing. Don’t mind me. I’m just talking to myself. But you know what, kiddo? Do me a favor. Enough with your excuses and go talk to Markus! I’m sure it will shed some light on things.”

Simon could use some of his certainty. But years of experience were telling him Carl wouldn’t take a no for an answer, so what choice did he have? He stood up, feeling completely defeated by an elder. “…If you say so, Carl. Alright, alright. But don’t blame me if something goes amiss.”

“C’mon, have I ever been wrong about something?”

Simon chuckled as he made his way to the door, briefly exchanging glances with that hideous stuffed wild cat sitting casually on the mantelpiece. Ugh. “Don’t make me answer that.”

“Begone, blasphemer!” Carl’s teasing shout accompanied him to the hallway.

***

Simon glared at the dark, neatly polished wood of the door to Markus’ room, too afraid to knock or even make a noise. The young artist was bound to be furious with him. Who wouldn’t be, after everything that had happened? But Simon wanted to make this better. To atone for being unnecessarily mean to him. Admitting he was wrong seemed scary, but never seeing Markus ever again was much scarier. Hopefully, he will find it in his heart to forgive him.

With that in mind, he finally found the strength to raise his hand and bring it to the wood. Knock knock. The blunt sound pierced the deafening silence of the hallway for a few short moments.

“Go away, North! I don’t want to talk to anyone right now,” came the answer from the other side of the door. Oh well.

“Not even to one old fool who is very sorry for what has he done?” Simon asked, and shortly after heard a loud, dull noise, something that sounded close to someone quickly jumping down from the bed and landing gracelessly on the wooden floor, tripping in the process. It was followed by more scrambling sounds and a few filthy swear words (that made Simon smile a little, despite the dire circumstances). Then the door finally swung open.

Poor Markus had definitively seen better days, that’s for sure – he who inherited his father’s sense for flamboyant fashion, looked like he forced himself to put on some random pieces of casual clothing in a manner that betrayed he clearly couldn’t care less about his appearance, and his eyes still had a thick sleep crust in them. But he had a hopeful expression on his face and seemed genuinely excited to see Simon. At least some good news.

“Hi,” he mumbled awkwardly, obviously struggling with finding the right words in this strange and somewhat uncomfortable situation. Well, lucky for him, he wasn’t the only one.

“Hi,” Simon replied in an equally clumsy manner. “Can I come in?”

“Sure. Be my guest!”

He moved to the side so Simon could squeeze his lean body through the gap, entering the room he knew so well since the first time being there (he couldn’t decide how he felt about his coat still lying haphazardly on the unmade bed, almost as if Markus clutched it to his chest for comfort as he was lying among the pillows – but that was just the mage’s imagination running wild again).

Markus treated him with the utmost care the entire time, like some majestic, but easily spooked beast, ensuring he wasn’t making any sudden movements and speaking in a calm, soothing tone when he motioned the mage to sit on the bed because the chair was currently occupied with numerous books, pieces of clothing and sketches. As if he was mortified he was going to disappear again if he didn’t behave. Simon didn’t deserve such treatment but appreciated it nonetheless.

The tension between the two of them became almost palpable the second they sat down next to each other, both looking for a way to start the conversation they needed to have, but feared it at the same time. Simon was the first one to break the uneasy wall of silence.

“Look, I apologize. For everything I’ve done. I know I acted unnecessarily cruel, but I had my reasons.”

Markus had been quiet for the longest of time, looking at his bare feet as if they were the most interesting thing he has ever seen. Then he finally spoke up, making Simon regret saying anything in the first place. “Such as?”

He sighed. Really? Did he have to spell it out loud? “I… care about you. A lot. Definitively more than I should.” Markus suddenly looked up with a surprise written all over his beautiful face, but Simon immediately sat him back down. “I know, I know. You care for me as a dear friend too, but my affection is not of the sort. But who normal in their right mind would have wanted to marry a mage? So when you caught me hugging you in my sleep, I just… freaked out, I guess. Swear I never meant to hurt you. Can you forgive me?”

Markus’s rapid shake of the head was all it took for Simon’s fragile heart to get shattered into pieces.

“Oh, Simon. I can’t.”

He tried to keep a carefully neutral face as he heaved a sigh. He won’t cry like some spoiled brat denied of a toy, he won’t, he won’t – “Unfortunate, but understandable.”

He was about to get up and leave before he can embarrass himself more, but to his great surprise, Markus caught him by the sleeve, making him sit back and face him once more. He looked frantic with zeal. Oh, what would Simon give for the knowledge of what was happening in his mind right now!

“You don’t understand. I can’t forgive you, because there’s nothing to forgive. I… care about you too.”

W-what?! Now Simon became even more lost than before. “But what about North? I thought you were trying to impress her!”

“Wait. You thought I was doing this for her?” Simon gave him a “duh” look, only to receive a perplexed stare in return. “I mean, she’s a good friend and all, but I’ve never thought about her that way. All I did was for _you._ ”

That was a lot of information to take in all at once.

“But… why didn’t you say something then?”

“Because I was worried you would reject me, remember?” He playfully nudged Simon’s thigh with his own, perhaps to coax him into being a little less gloomy, however, it wasn’t met with much success. “You always acted like you haven’t even noticed my advances.”

Simon went silent after that. Lost in thought. His sky blue eyes slid closed as if it made what he wanted to say easier. It did not, of course, but at least he tried.

“Trust me, I’ve seen you each and every time. Just…” he sighed, turning his head away, only for Markus to capture him by the chin and gently persuade him to face him once again, softly caressing his skin in the process. It sent a shiver running down Simon’s spine, but he did nothing to put an end to it. Like he was under some spell or something, when the truth was he was simply mesmerized by the young artist.

“You don’t want this life, Markus. You think you do, but you really don’t. Not with me being penniless and my magic poisoning everything I touch.”

The man in question started leaning toward him, and Simon was so terrified and agitated at the same time he couldn’t move, couldn’t even think. All that mattered was Markus, his soothing touch and closeness.

“But I do. Let me prove it to you.”

Their lips were getting closer and closer to each other until they were a mere inches apart, and Simon felt he might go crazy before they even get to touch. But right before it could finally happen, the door suddenly opened, and in marched North, completely oblivious to what she so rudely interrupted.

“Markus, your old man has told me – woah!” Both Simon and Markus flinched away from one another like stung by a bee, but it was already too late. Nothing could stop this from turning awkward as all three of them stared at each other, trying to find something to say.

Despite her impoliteness, North was quick to get the memo and she _smirked_ at them, cementing the mage’s decision to throttle her in her sleep. “Sorry. I will come back later.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I was about to leave anyway,” Simon hastily excused himself, but before he could escape this uncomfortable situation, he turned back at Markus and whispered: “If you mean what you’ve said, come visit me tomorrow. We shall… discuss it further over a tea, what do you think?”

The slightly goofy, but brighter than the sun smile Markus gave him was enough to make the mage melt. Maybe, just maybe there could be a future for the two of them, after all. He tried to forget about the humiliating sneers from his past, telling him that: “ _It meant nothing. Who would be able to love someone like you, either way_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Thank you for reading (and for your nice comments on previous chapters, I haven’t been able to respond to them yet because my work got pretty hectic these days, but I see them all and love every one of them. Thanks for reading!


End file.
